


Stuff of Legends

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Vampire Sex, Vampires, larry stylinson - Freeform, lourry, vampire thrall equals non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson can leap-frog over Harry, and he’s the shit at any sport he plays. He’s athletic, he’s strong, and if life was a crappy romance novel he can stop a car from running over the love of his life with one hand. What Louis can’t do is be a vegetarian, and this begins to cause him problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuff of Legends

**Author's Note:**

> The fact is I was so ashamed to find myself in this fandom, I honestly didn’t know how to deal with it. This was the same group that my eleven year old cousin liked, and I’d never thought I was pretentious but I guess I was, because this became my dirty little secret, but I loved it even more because of that. It was something that, despite being so popular and what-not, was entirely mine. 
> 
>  
> 
> _This story is based off a prompt in the kink meme._

“You okay?” Liam asks, glancing at Louis out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t even want to know what he looks like right now, because he feels like shit and it’s impossible that it doesn’t show.

He tries to say something comforting and offhand, but all that comes out is a grunt. He is in fucking pain right now, and even the one syllable required in saying ‘ _fine_ ’ is a bit too much for him. Liam looks like he’s having an aneurysm at his reply, but Louis doesn’t feel too sympathetic because unless Liam’s having an aneurysm in his _entire body_ then it’s pretty much nothing compared to what Louis’ feeling right now.

He takes a deep breath through his nose and moves to grip tightly at Liam’s shoulder, watching as the other boy winces, probably surprised by Louis’ sudden display of strength. He’s screwing everything up with his inability to control himself, but he’s so fucking _hungry_ he could just die. Or worse, kill someone.

“Liam…” he breathes, voice rough and low and so unlike himself that Liam stops panicking and just _looks_ at him, serious and ready to do whatever he wants. “I need you to get me to a bar. Right now.”

Liam frowns, his eyebrows furrowing, and he looks like he’s about to refuse. Louis doesn’t want to force him, but he needs Liam to just fucking _listen_ to him instead of his own morals. “Liam! Just… don’t ask questions for once, okay?”

He doesn’t know how someone as young as Liam can look so grave, but the other boy nods and his face is like a cemetery, it’s that fucking grave. This is the best part about Liam, the fact that he cares but knows when to let go. This is the one thing he can’t get from Harry, because Harry thinks too much and lets things eat away at him; cares too much and needs to do something about everything, and he’s so glad that Harry had gone with Niall to wherever, because he doesn’t need to see this and he doesn’t need to stew on this event and what it possibly meant, because Harry thinks too much, but the worst thing is he also thinks _well_ , and if anyone can reach the right conclusion, it’s him.

Louis doesn’t want him to find out. He doesn’t want anyone to find out, but especially not Harry. Harry, who smells so _pure_ all the time Louis can’t even believe it, can’t believe that someone as delicious as Harry has landed on his lap, like a gift from whoever they’re meant to worship, stolen from Heaven itself.

He doesn’t want Harry to find out, and he isn’t, because in front of him is Liam, who knows exactly when to not ask questions.

Said boy hauls him to his feet and drags him out the door, glancing around like the worst spy there ever was, his neck craning over couches to see if there were band mates hiding around the corner, because Niall totally sits in corners to eat and freaks the fuck out of everyone. Louis feels distracted, because he’s watching Liam’s neck and he wants so much, but he’s unwilling to take because _this is my family._

“Fucking… hurry up Liam. There’s no one breathing here except you.”

Liam frowns at him even harder, and Louis doesn’t give a shit if it’s because of the swearing or the fact that he’s realizing that Louis can apparently hear people breathe, but Louis’ considering self-cannibalizing and this means they need to get to a bar immediately.

The walk takes about ten minutes, which, right now, in Louis time, is a month or so, and he pretty much does the creepy equivalent to kissing the ground when he starts to hear the heart-beats, bass line to the songs he hears in nature; songs only he himself hears. He flings himself out of Liam’s grasp and stumbles inside, past the bouncer, who tries to put an arm out to stop him, probably to ask for an I.D., but instead ends up with a limb shattered in three places.

He doesn’t even stop to appreciate the mess of bodies, the scent of sex and alcohol that he’s been conditioned to associate with safety and the screwed up equivalent to a hot meal, because he can’t wait anymore, and he picks someone by ear, listens to the sound of a kid who is alone and unexcited and probably forgettable, and uses his thrall to get him to follow, deciding that whoever this kid is, he’s going to _wreck_ them.

He bites in the jugular first, because it’s easy access and he really needs to eat, and he doesn’t know if this one is something special or if it’s because he’s starving but whoever this boy is, they’re delicious, and he’s frantic with the taste of blood like the sweetest wine, unbuckling his belt and sliding ridiculously girly looking jeans down and hoisting pale thighs around his waist and driving his cock inside, unceremonious in a way which would have been painful and unsafe, if either party were in their right minds to care.

He’s taking too much blood and pretty soon his partner is going to lose consciousness, but Louis feels high with whatever’s in this guy’s bloodstream, wonders if they take ecstasy or heroin and if you can get a second-hand high from drinking someone’s blood. Harry would probably know.

He’s still thrusting in pretty desperately, and he doesn’t have a condom on and this is against all the rules, and he feels blood running down the boy’s pale thighs and Louis feels terrible but he can’t stop, and when he comes he slides out and down and tastes the blood and semen running down the man’s legs, biting several places on the inside of his thigh just to take in more blood, before he finally has to take into account the fact that their breathing is dangerously slow, as is their heartbeat, and the haze has lifted from Louis’ mind enough for him to care, sated and warm but dreading the consequences of his own rash actions, and he’s going to see this person’s face, this person who he’s just used.

He runs his hands up and down the pale body, and murmurs apologies against the bite on the skin of their inner thigh. He’s surprised to see that they’d reached their own release, though he supposed that the thrall always guaranteed that, at least. He really doesn’t want to look up. But he knows he needs to, because when he knows that when he finally stops looking, stops cataloguing the people who keeps him alive at their own cost, it’s when he stops seeing them as people, too. _It’s the beginning of a downward spiral, it’s when you start to think of them as less than whom they are… when you start thinking of them as only a food source._

So he looks up.

And he freezes, because the person he’d wrecked, whose blood he’d sucked and licked and taken, and who’d tasted like every piece of chocolate Louis had ever consumed… was none other than Harry Styles.


End file.
